1979

1979

1979.  That is the year I graduated from Holton High School with a class of a little more than 80 students, the same year as the release of the Sony Walkman.  Mobility — the idea that you could take music with us – was HUGE. The music channel, MTV, launched just a few years later — who remembers listening to the release of Video Killed the Radio Star? It was so cool.

We were all about the music as a class. We listened to My Sharona by The Knack, and Hot Stuff by Donna Summers. Songs by the Bee Gees, Blondie and the Village People’s enduring YMCA were hits in 1979.  We loved country music tunes like Eddie Rabbit’s hit,  Every Which Way but Loose and some of us were into hard rock by Led Zeppelin, Judas Priest and AC/DC. We snuck into the local club, the Jolly Troll, to listen to local bands close up and personal. Many of us turned 18 so we were legal to drink beer in Kansas at the time.  Our favorite was Coors.  The music sounded better with a cold can of Coors in my hand.

We sang, danced and acted in school iconic musical productions of West Side Story and South Pacific.  We played music in our cars, many decked out with an 8-track, cruising around the square.  At lunch, jammed into the old gym for some free time, John Denver sang Rocky Mountain High from a delapidated jukebox.

We whistled along to KISS FM radio from Topeka while swimming at the city pool on lazy summer days.  Some of the last lazy days for most of us as we launched into adulthood.  We Are the Champions, by Queen, was released in 1977, and the pep band blasted that catchy anthem repeatedly during warmups and timeouts at boys basketball games.

Our class had a diverse set of interests outside of music and many of us played dual roles.  We marched in the band, sang in the choir and competed in sports.  We held leadership positions both at school, in our churches and other affiliations preparing us for our futures in science, engineering, business, logistics and a wide variety of fields.  We were multi-taskers.  We almost all worked outside of school either paid or unpaid helping on the family farm, checking groceries or filling up gas tanks.  No job seemed too small to us.

Next week, we celebrate our 40th reunion together as a graduating class.  I am unable to attend this year but from the social media chatter, it looks like there will be good attendance over Memorial Day with our class featured on a float in the local parade as well as a dinner and an after party.   Mostly, we just spend time catching up and sharing stories. We often laugh about embarrassing tales from those days that we would not share with anyone else except our high school friends.  Likely, because our current friends cannot relate or do not really care as much as our high school friends about our stories from back then.  Who would you talk to about the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat after making it to the State Basketball Championship back in 1979? Alternatively, that time, some classmates snuck into the city pool and skinny-dipped?  Some of these stories certainly change and get better over time.  Hell, who can remember at our age?

We are on the cusp of 60, trying to hold off the inevitable aging process so that we can stay active, travel and enjoy life after so many years working 9 to 5 or dusk to dawn.  I like to see ourselves now after all these years as joyful people who are at peace with who we are and why we are.  Our foundation was first built in our childhood when the importance of purpose, interconnectivity, selflessness, and service were first taught and demonstrated to us by our families, our teachers and our community.  In retrospect, our lives speak for themselves well after we are gone.

So, this is what 40 years since graduating high school looks like for each of us. Who knew? So, raise your Coors cans high and celebrate, because my classmates from 1979, we are all champions of our own little neck of the woods.

Below is a card I found tucked inside the jacket holding my high school diploma. My main takeaway from this rather stuffy pronouncement, 40 years into the future is, yes, Principal Versch you are correct: ere life has flown.

 

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Appointment Anxiety

Appointment Anxiety

QCurrently, I am on an every six-month schedule for checkups with the oncologist. Although these are supposed to be routine visits, I always get anxious. This will be the tenth year of going to these appointments since I received a diagnosis of breast cancer back in 2009.

Is this picture anxiety inducing?

You would think I would get use to the blood work routine, the questions, the sterile environment, and the poking and prodding of my body, but I don’t.  This year, I graduated to the long term survivor club with the clinic so now I will only see the nurse practitioner unless test results are not normal. Please let them be normal.

Sometimes, I try to visualize the worst case scenario so I am prepared emotionally but then I think, just focus on the positive, you idiot.  You feel great, you are taking care of yourself, this is out of your control.

Another step I took this year to ease my anxiety is to schedule my oncologist appointment and my wellness exam with my family doctor all on the same day.  Thinking to myself, that getting it all done on one day would minimize the number of anxious days leading up to the appointments.

To avoid bone loss, one of the common side effects of a battery of chemo treatments, I receive an infusion of a medicine through an IV to help reduce any additional bone loss. To receive the medicine, I have to enter the same massive, open floor plan infusion room that I first got chemotherapy several years ago. No problem, right? PTSD my friends.

This time, there was a man in his 30s seated across from me receiving the drug, cancer survivors call, The Red Devil. Aptly named as its victims experience hair and nail loss and extreme nautiousness and fatigue. The young man  has his hands in a bucket of ice to try to save his nails while his young wife, rubs his neck gently fighting to not cry as her huge brown eyes fill with tears. I wanted to walk out then and there but my arm was also tied to an IV pole. I visualized myself in Rome looking out over the cityscape and took a deep breath, tears in my eyes too.

Another tactic I tried this time to ease anxiety is to do a 45 minute at home yoga practice the morning before the exams and I found myself a little more relaxed.  At least at first. Learning to breathe helps. I also talked about my fears more with friends at work and told myself that the anxiousness I am feeling is natural and understandable based on my past experiences at the doctor and in the clinic. Also, I know the doctors want what is best for me.

It helps that Dr. Young always gives me hug at the end of the exam, she seems as releaved as me, as I skip out the clinic doors with my results of cancer free. She stays behind and treats us all everyday. I get to go home to my loved ones and try to live my best life post cancer. I hope that I will see that young man again in a year or so and we can chat about what it’s now like to experience appointment anxiety as one of the lucky ones just doing our best to handle life after a diagnosis of cancer.